


On Love and Weakness

by Fox88



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22339465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox88/pseuds/Fox88
Summary: Love is weakness.  Draco knows this.  One should never trust love.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 22





	On Love and Weakness

Love is weakness - that is what Draco Malfoy had been taught. So, he believed it. _ Love is weakness. Your enemies will take every chance to use it as a weapon. Remember that, Draco _ , his father would tell him. _ Never trust love. _

He was eleven when he first met him. The boy had entered Madame Malkin’s, peering around owlishly through large, cracked glasses. He had mussed up black hair, and all Draco could think was that he had to impress this boy. He didn’t know why he was drawn to the kid. It was only later that he found out it was Harry Potter, of all people. So he asked for friendship, only to be denied. _ Father would be so disappointed in him. _ When he went back to the manor at the end of the year, mother patiently listened to him ramble on about the boy who lived, but father, upon hearing his words, silenced him with a cold look and nearly imperceptible shake of the head.

It was second year when the Chamber of Secrets opened. Draco gloated about the mudbloods being picked off one by one, but he was quietly worried. _The killer wouldn’t possibly dare to touch Potter, would they? _ _ No _ , he scoffed to himself, uncertain. _ No, of course it wouldn’t. Potter is pure, despite his idiocy. _ He told himself this, but still watched Potter from across the room during class. He didn’t even notice where he would be vacantly staring until Pansy would point it out to him, a snide note in her voice. He then made an effort to stare everywhere _ but _ Potter. Why would he want to look at him, anyway?

In third year, they were allowed to take electives. So, Draco signed up for Care of Magical Creatures. Despite his genuine interest in the topic, he couldn’t focus on the class. Why? Saint Potter was in it with him. _ The boy who lived had a natural talent with animals _ , he noted to himself. Potter was able to ride the hippogriff. He wanted to be able to do the same. _ Certainly not to impress Potter _ , he reminded himself. _ If the boy who lived can do this, then he should easily be able to follow suit. _ The bloody animal scratched him, and he knew that Potter was laughing at him. Yet, the mocking only motivated him to try harder. Push further. He wanted Potter’s respect. He _ needed _it.

Fourth year. The year that faux hatred towards Potter transformed into something real. When his name had been pulled out of the goblet, Draco was initially concerned for Harry. _ It wasn’t safe, he wouldn’t survive this. _ He needed to talk to Harry, warn him. He needed to get his attention somehow. So he challenged him to a duel. Admittedly, it wasn’t a very good idea, but it got worse when Moody transfigured him into a ferret, of all things. Harry and his friends had started laughing. _ Everyone _ was laughing. _ At him. _ He gained a reputation as the amazing bouncing ferret all because Moody was ‘protecting’ Harry. The others would snigger whenever he walked by, and his humiliation only grew by the day. And so he began hating him. He officially hated the boy who lived.

Fifth year was when everything began to look up. Draco finally had a place somewhere - in the inquisitorial squad with Professor Umbridge. He could finally make his father proud, and so he poured himself into the work they did. He terrorized Harry more than ever, trying to convince himself of his hatred of him. Then, at the end of the year, something happened. His father was sent on a mission to take the prophecy from Harry at the Ministry of Magic, of all places. He knew of the talent of his father, but still, couldn’t help the small bit of worry gnawing at his insides. Afterward, when the newspapers proclaimed the return of the Dark Lord, they also printed a smaller section of death eaters that had been captured and sent to Azkaban. In that section was the name _ Lucius Malfoy _. And he knew that somehow, this was all Harry’s fault. So even more hatred festered for the boy who lived. He clung onto the hatred and pushed down everything else.

The next year started as normally as possible for Draco. There was a new potions professor that didn’t favor him as much as Snape used to, but at least Snape was teaching dark arts now - that made life more interesting. As time went on, he started to become more stressed. The weight of the task imposed upon him by Voldemort was becoming harder to bear. Dumbledore had never been his favorite, but the idea of _ killing _ him... He couldn’t convince himself that it was the right course of action. On top of that, he was finding out more about himself than he had ever wished to know. Mainly, the fact that blokes were starting to become more appealing than women. But no, not just anyone. No matter how much he denied it, his growing attraction to Harry was becoming a problem. Over the years, he had idolized the boy who lived, but he realized as time went on that he had thought of him as much more than just an idol. Then one day, he broke down. He was in the girls' bathroom, where no one could find him. But it just so happened that Harry bloody Potter himself wandered into the bathroom shortly after him. _ He couldn’t let Harry see him like this. _ But it was too late. He couldn’t do anything about it but put up his walls, and desperately hope that Harry would go away. Seconds later, when he was lying on the floor with a burning pain slashed across his chest, he was strangely satisfied. This gave him another reason to hate Harry. The pain cleared his thoughts, and he was finally back on track again. _ Or so he thought. _

The Battle of Hogwarts. It went down in history. At first, people thought it would be historic because of _ the death of the boy who lived _ . When Hagrid plodded out of the forest carrying Harry’s body, Draco’s heart stopped beating. _ Harry was supposed to save them all. _ At first, he was angry. Angry that he wouldn’t be torn from the hell that he was stuck in. Then, the anger gave way to grief. Harry was dead. _ He was dead. _ But then, he wasn’t. And suddenly, Voldemort was dead. _ It was over. _ He wanted to congratulate Harry, walk up to him and thank him, even. But he couldn’t. He was a death eater now, and that meant he would be wanted until the Ministry cleared his name. So he and his mother ran.

Draco kept up with the news every day. He desperately clung onto any piece of information thought to be true about the boy who lived. One sunny day in April, his owl dropped off the paper with a headline that caught his eyes almost immediately. In large, bold words, the paper read, _ Is the Famed Boy Who Lived Gay? _ An almost nonexistent flame of hope kindled inside of him. Maybe he could attempt to make amends with Harry, reveal the fact that he fancied blokes as well, and their friendship could slowly grow into something more- _ NO. No. _ This would never happen. Even if Harry was gay - _ Potter denies all accusations of homosexuality _, Draco dimly noted in small text - that fantasy would never become something real. It couldn’t, not with who he was. Nothing more than death eater scum, the lowest of the low. He proposed to his girlfriend the next day.

  
Years later, Draco sat alone in his bedroom as Astoria rocked their baby to sleep. She was a pureblood, and of a high-ranking family, as per his father’s wishes. They were living a decent life. Yet, he wondered what would have happened if he had followed his own path, ignored the one his father had carefully laid out for him at birth. If he had made more of an effort to get to know Harry. If he had refused to become a death eater, and stood against evil with him. _ No. _ His father was right. _ Love is weakness. _ There was nothing worse than being in love.


End file.
